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1901 









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Book 



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Copyright^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



AT 

THE TEMPLE 
GATES 



BY 
STEWART DOUBLEDAY 



THE 

Ebbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

LONDON NEW YORK MONTREAL 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies -Received 

JUN. 3 1901 

Copyright entry 

( CLASS <5C-XXa N». 

COPY B. 



•Q 1 

■ $ 



Copyright, 1901, 

by 

THE 

Mbbcy press 

in 

the 

United States 

and 
Great Britain. 



All Rights Reserved. 



At the Temple Gates 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/attemplegatesOOdoub 



To William 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

To Revery 1 

Still Forest 8 

Betrothal I5 

A Shore Lyric *7 

Flight J 9 

A Bacchanal 22 

The Holland Maid 2 5 

Holland Lyric 2 7 

Rembrandt 2 9 

Gioconda 3° 

Venetian Etching 31 

The Shell 34 

A Water Idyl (Composed after hearing the Melusine 

Overture by Mendelssohn) 35 

Chopin 39 

Beethoven 41 

On Reading some Lines of Schiller 42 

To W. H. G • 43 

A Prelude 46 

Longings in Spring 47 

The Recollection 49 

To Silence 66 

To the Earth 71 

vii 



viii Contents 

PAGE 

Autumn Memories 72 

Beside a Sleeping Child 76 

A Ballad 78 

Beauty that Lies in the Thorn 80 

The Song. . . 82 

Two Lyrics of Children 83 

A Cry of Mercury, Messenger to Hades 86 

Proserpine Studies 89 

Bleaklands 101 

Evensong 103 

Sanctuary 106 

Tranquillity 107 

An April Lyric m 

To an Evening Cloud 112 

Three Sonnets of a Wintry Shore 115 



TO REVERY 

Tranquil sweet of summer nights, 
Queenly wanderer 'mong delights, 
Come — thy flowery pallet spread 
Gently 'neath my drowsing head. 
Let me in cool arbours lie 
Where the lovelorn breezes sigh. 
And thou — enchantress of the place — 
With thy dewy mantled grace 
Bending o'er me as I sleep, 
May I inhale the rapture deep 
That in thy seizeless beauty lingers, 
And from thy long inviolate fingers 
Draw the mesmeric loneliness 



At the Temple Gates 

From which I wake to no distress. 
Ay, let me in cool arbours lie 
Where the lovelorn breezes sigh. 
But while in such ideal repose, 
Let me not fail the nobler throes 
That make a temple of the bosom 
And ripen into clearer blossom 
The weed recesses of the mind. 
I would not a cold laurel bind 
About mine ears and heartless dull 
Humanity's plaint beautiful, 
Nor with a fancy-dimmed sight 
Shut out the legions of Heaven's light, 
Nor yet to other natures blind me ; 
But rather, with what power assigned me 
God has fixed, find the good 
Dwelling in dreams of larger brood. 



To Revery 

Thou often, gracious, comest to me 
In forms of loftiest symmetry, 
With plain attire and Grecian poise 
Befitting soul's most permanent joys; 
And sometimes in an Eastern veil, 
And rarely in Minerva's mail, 
Thou hastenest to my side ; but O 
I love thee best when least to know 
Form or motion or attire, 
I bend before thy hallowed fire, 
And bless thy sunny tressed hair, 
And deem thee a young mother fair, 
Whose children visions 'bout thee play 
Like gentlest zephyrs in mid-May. 

Sometimes when from world to look 
In a half unchosen nook, 



At the Temple Gates 

I find thee standing white and tall, 
A pale gleam in thy coronal. 
Then how cheerly swells my heart, 
Star serene for Life and Art, 
Touched with tranquillity divine, 
Sweeter than Olympian wine. 
Or, when Morn sings at my bed, 
Ev'n in comeliest gown of red, 
Thou, th' inquiring eye dost meet 
With graceful motions, gambols sweet, 
And ceaseless change with his gay brood 
Bringing poise to sombre mood. 
Yet in thy sprightliest matin step 
Thou dost never bring mishap 
To the domain of sober reason, 
Nor fail the duties of thy season, 
Nor quit the path that holds to noon. 



To Revery 

I know no more requiting boon 
Than just to touch thine arm and steal 
Where the labourer takes his meal 
In the hayrick's fragrant cool, 
Or to sit near massy pool 
And view the maidens one by one 
Drink there; browned by harvest sun, 
Or to hear the children crow 
When the mid-meal syrens blow, 
And the colts and calves roll over 
Frisking in the dusty clover. 

So dost thou my whole day bless 

With a translucent loveliness, 

And usherest me to the dark 

Hopeful of the heaven-spark. 

And, Revery, if man excuse 

More ancient name, thou art my muse: 



At the Temple Gates 

I hold thee dearer and more true, 
Womanly and warm of hue, 
Fitter for the human fold, 
Than th' unbending muse of old. 
Something in thy fragrant waist, 
Like Hebe, slender, Mary, chaste; 
Something like the real love 
Leaning o'er me from above — 
With the flame of Heloise 
Borne to me on the constant breeze, 
Lights me fierce and carries me far 
Whither transcendent glories are, 
To the bright place I know so well, 
And ever feel and may not tell. 

Tranquil sweet of summer nights, 
Queenly wanderer 'mong delights, 



To Revery 

Come, thy flowery pallet spread 
Gently 'neath my drowsing head; 
Aye — comfort me till life be fled. 



STILL FOREST 
I 

It goes against my heart good men should kill 

Sweet singing birds that never did them ill. 

Truth, 'tis a penance but to roam the woods 

Where the blithe songsters in swift changing 
moods 

Had thrilled us with a calm delicious glad- 
ness, 

And cured the soul of an unrighteous sad- 
ness, 

And gi'en some colour to a pallid world. 

Who could be still when April hath unfurled 

Her faery leaves, green sails on shallop 
sprays, 

And launched her flowery skiffs in mossy 

bays, 

8 



Still Forest 9 

And forgot the saucy crew? Where is the 

strut 
Of Captain Redbreast, where the noisy- 
throat 
Of Officer Blackbird, or the pipings true 
Of bullfinch, linnet, bluebird and cuckoo? 
All gone — affrighted by the murd'rous din 
Of monster weapons. O 'tis stupid sin 
To haunt the natural grove with smoking 

barrels, 
And startle birds from their life-giving 

carols. 
Methinks the man has something of demon's 

strife 
Who melteth not when the frail wounded life 
He hath sent panting to the careless ground, 
Beats its one wing and uttereth not a 
sound. 



io At the Temple Gates 

How deep the silence where some well-loved 

voice, 
That rang like a commandment to rejoice, 
Hath stilled forever. O then th' accustomed 

sheen 
Of vernal branches with the sun gold be- 
tween, 
Where first we wooed, brings us to sullen 

grief. 
Better the naked bough than songless leaf; 
Better the neutral wilderness hoary wild 
Than arboured paths where the lost friend 

hath smiled. 
And thus my soul is saddened to the quick 
Here to encounter none, where once so thick 
My flying friends would sally forth to greet 
My harmless presence with their cooings 
sweet. 



Still Forest n 

A maiden with blinded eyes, a beauteous face 
That glows not, an unused forgotten place 
Which once inspired our lay, so seems the 

wood 
In April time without that sunny brood. 

II 

And yet 'tis a thin pleasure to complain — 
This silent blending suiteth a searching vein 
Engendered by these lonely woodland walks ; 
And now I find a voice in the very stalks 
Behind the simple flowers. If when we die 
We gain in heaven what we have been too 

blind 
To seize on earth, tyrannous Death were 

kind. 
The sublimest stations yielded us by fate 
Approached are by paths most delicate. 



12 At the Temple Gates 

He who would build up temples from the 

heart 
Must know the dainty fretwork of his art. 
And thus with Happiness. To view her 

well, 
We must creep stealthily to some leafy dell 
Where glints a placid runnel, mossy pure, 
And girt our souls from the mad world 

immure 
And murmur a passing prayer. Then shall 

we know 
From ferny bank o'er the intoning flow 
How lovely 'tis to lean; what blest con- 
tent 
Dwells in those faery fathoms translucent, 
And how it enriches soul still longings to 
have spent. 



Still Forest 13 

But first we must dismiss all troops of 
pleasure ; 

Frail happiness beats only to gentler meas- 
ure; 

The Nereid floating amid soft rushes 

Dissolves to atoms pearls if the cheek flushes. 

The dreamiest swelling of warm lips to kiss, 

Sets the wings beating of our fragile bliss. 

Joy is a faint odour, which, when we strive 

To imprison, vapours to her honey hive ; 

The rhythm of passionate speech freed from 
the words ; 

The melodious memory, without the song, 
of birds. 

So have I found thee, fleeting Happiness, 
Here in this wildwood where the air's caress 



14 At the Temple Gates 

Folds on me tempting, and the young flowers 

slender 
Gaze skyward so pathetically tender 
I needs must laugh to stem the rivulet tears. 
O what sweet time so thousandfold endears 
The lone spot to me that I boldly stay 
In peril of delights passing away? 



BETROTHAL 

The woodland zephyrs flung 
Their wildness to her cheek; 

So bright was she and young, 
So leal yet loth to speak. 

I drew her to my breast, 

And held her there and prayed 

We alway might be blest, 
As in that ferny glade; 

Where hawthorn blooms beguiled 

The airs with a lonely scent, 

And the noon looked forth and smiled 

From the folds of his cloudy tent ; 
is 



1 6 At the Temple Gates 

Where the song-thrush in his glee 
Made creak the laurel bough, 

And the swoon of a distant sea 
Gave deepness to our vow. 



A SHORE LYRIC 

O light and laughing Alice — 

If thou wilt be my bride, 
My hut shall seem a palace, 

Our fief the dun waves wide. 

Flowers shall trim our porches, 
And birds make merry din; 

Young blue-eyed boys with torches 
At eve will light thee in. 

By dawn we shall be sailing 

Over the odorous sea — i 

'Tis a mystical joy unfailing 

The trawler's life so free. 
17 



At the Temple Gates 

Then lean thou soft on my shoulder 
And let me scarf thee well — 

The nights are growing colder 
And sighs the northern swell. 



flight; 

Mark ye the swift 
Over the rift 
Of the breakers ! 
Watch the lone swallow 
Over the fallow 
Rustling the mallow — 
Lord of his acres. 

Oh to outlift 

My spirit and follow 

And wing the gay seas 

And fringe the gay leas, 

And glide like the wind over mountain and 

hollow, 

And hover the deep as I cover the shallow, 
19 






20 At the Temple Gates 

And fly to the Far 
In the smoothness of life^ 
With no more of strife 
Than I see in a star 
As it rises and falls 
Or glimmers. 

Hndah! 

Swift, away, the sea calls ! 

Swallow, lone swallow — the morn-barley 

shimmers — 
Go fleeting, fly joyous o'er meadows and 

moors, 
I would be alone. 

I would be alone 
In a motion my own, 



Flight 2 1 

To wing my own flight, my heavenward 

tours, 
Tis naught ye have known, 
But something God-grown, 
Full princely — 
And calmer and swifter — sublimer than 

yours. 



A BACCHANAL 

Let elden poets praise the bowl, 

Mine be the wild-voiced sea; 
The orgies of his mighty soul 

Are wine enow for me. 
The west'ring sun shall tint the wave, 

The wind made merry foam ; 
While hoary billows rollicking 
With stony bumpers, rise and sing 

To Neptune-broods at home. 

A breaker of yon briny draught! 

No gentler be my choice; 
I yearn what potion gods have quafft 

To gain immortal voice. 

22 



A Bacchanal 23 

His horn may any mortal bowse 

And jovial notes inform; 
But few can stand in Poet's House 
And with the thund'rous sea carouse 

To music of the storm. 

In tankards of ennobling mirth 

I pledge with purple brim, 
Who hath no soul for sordid earth, 

But joins my tidal hymn. 
If every loftier spirit stood 

In high tempestuous band, 
To drink deep of heroic mood, — 
Beneficent for them, and good 

For men of every land. 

'Tis gone — but O fierce God afar, 

Victorious and great ! 
Let me not lightly wage my war 

Nor fearful ply my fate : 



24 At the Temple Gates 

Grant I may never less defy 

Than now — where thunders creep- 
Where lightning sears the northern sky, 
And storm-clouds scour silently 
Above the vanquished deep. 



THE HOLLAND MAID 

She roamed the fair and fragrant sand, 

I followed, scarcely knowing ; 
'Twas evelight in the Netherland, 

The long Norse tide was flowing: 
Her cheek shone with the Western sun, 

Her hair hung dark in tresses, 
She seemed that soft ideal one 

An artist's soul caresses. 

I know not whether so to gaze 

Bring pleasure more than paining; 

She had those heart-bewitching ways 
Of lowly sweet disdaining : 

Her prettiest lip she made to curl, 

25 



26 At the Temple Gates 

Like any princess frowning; 
And yet one saw 'twas but a girl 

Whose childhood was her crowning. 

On the white beach at Schevening 

I viewed that herring maiden; 
She did not play nor dance nor sing, 

With nets she travelled laden. 
But I can see her bodice blue, 

Her shoon and skirting yellow, 
And oh! God grant she find a true 

Brave, loving fisher fellow. 



HOLLAND LYRIC 
I 

As the fish take delight in the sea, 

And birds wing the shore, 
I shall sing thee in glee 

With the wind blowing free, 
I shall sing thee in glee 

Love — and o'er and o'er, 
And draw thee to me 

Love — and kiss thee thrice more. 



II 



As the storm hides the red fisher fleet 



In a passion of rain, 
27 



28 At the Temple Gates 

I shall hide thee, my sweet, 
In my bosom complete, 

I shall hide thee, my sweet 
Love — and kiss thee again, 

And soon may we meet 
Love — and speed us amain. 



REMBRANDT 

In rudeness of high venture and a flood 

Of manly splendour bursting from the soul 

Rich as a Holland landscape, in control 

Of virile wisdom, soundly great and good, 

Van Rijn stands single. What a sunlit brood 

Of mortals he has left us with his brush. 

1 stare at them and feel my visage flush 

As if I too before the master stood. 

This burgher who, black-eyed, with bowsing 

horn 

In Amsterdam two centuries ago 

Regaled his convivials, hale-born, 

No waning knew to his full spirit's wealth, 

But on pale canvas let to overflow 

The blithe outpourings of his golden health. 
29 






GIOCONDA 

The Mona Lisa throweth me to trance ; 

I cry for Mona Lisa wonderingly ; 
I would give riches to writhe in her glance 

One moment and endure her cold reply. 
Laughing — I grant the very name of her 

Maketh me various in desire, a thrall 
Trembling before my Lady Sinister 

Who telleth naught and comprehendeth all. 
A serpent Lamia by lone dusky rocks 

After the wand of Hermes made her woman ; 
Medusa — ere proud Athena gave her locks 

Of vengeance; something whimsical and 
human 
Yet with a noble bounteousness of mood, 

Mysterious fair, and strangely great and 

good. 

30 



VENETIAN ETCHING 

O for Venice, Venice! 

Od'rous damp Venetian, 
Palaces and bridges, 

Tintoretto, Titian. 

Every artist yearneth 

Soul to steep in Venice — 

If no ship may bear me, 
I will steal a pinnace. 

Sail across th' Atlantic — 

'Twixt the Rocks Herculean- 
Holding still to Eastward 

On a sea cerulean. 
31 



32 At the Temple Gates 

I will thread Messina 

To a classic ocean, 
Plashing round Apulia 

With a faery motion. 

Soft ! the Adriatic 
Trembles into being. 

See ye not sweet Venice, 
Whither I am fleeing, 

In the featlvry distance? 

Now 'tis clearer, fuller — 
Look, my mainsail quivers, 

Heavier grows with colour, 

Red and brown and golden, 
While the vapours gather 

Lovingly like children 

Round the sea, their father. 



Venetian Etching 33 

Blithe Apollo fills them 

With deep moods and cravings, 
Richer in their fragrance 

Than old Persian ravings; 

Richer in their fragrance — 

And I drift uncaring 
Whither group the fishers 

After their seafaring; 

Near the green giardino 
Where the wavelets lapping 

On the weed strewn scala 
Send my soul a-napping, 

And I wake and find, ah — 
Where O where is Venice? 

Where the steeples shimm'ring? 
Where the sails, the pinnace? 



THE SHELL 

I have a shell, a sea-shell in my pocket, 

It might be rimmed with gold — made a love 

locket — 
Or anything of jewellery fine 
If so be I might sell this heart of mine. 

But as it is, sleep, sleep my little shell 
My fair frail thing where every fall and swell 
Of her delighting bosom is pourtrayed 
In thy soft purring; sleep, be not afraid. 



34 



A WATER IDYL 

(Composed after hearing the " Melusine Over- 
hire " by Mendelssohn) 

Some time cerulean hills were mirroured far 
Into the soul of stream, celeste and wild — 
In one long waste enchant of sunny France — 
Where Nereid form and natural grace dis- 
crete 
Did flowering wreathe ambrosial tapestries 
'Long the else naked shores, did Raymond 

quit 
His haunts of wonted revelry and steal 
An hour of delicious watchfulness — 
Go.d-fed and filled with yearning — by the 
waters 

35 



36 At the Temple Gates 

Rippling in murmur sweet. And as he lay 
Soothed into subtle dream among the shapes 
Of youthful fancy, fell-distraught and 

vain, 
Rose there a Life from out the billowy clear 
Of undulating river, whither his eyes 
Threw longingly of tender looks and sad. 
And swept into the sense ceolian strains 
In cadence stream-borne, held 0' long 

harmonies 
And soul-recesses heaped with quiver- 
ing pearl, — 
Thus sang the Life, the Naiad Melusine — 
Her eyes beseeching, hair downfallen loose, 
Floating like liquid gold upon the wave: 
" Raymond of Lusignan, O hie thee to the 
forest, 



A Water Idyl 37 

Where leaves are springing, dying, or the 

frost 
Hath left the branches bare — 
O stay not here — " 

Then swept into the sense ceolian strains 
In cadence stream-borne, held 0' long 

harmonies 
'And soid-recesscs heaped with quiver- 
ing pearl, — 
" O stay not here — 
Where cold haunt drowns the enchanted 

lover lost : 
O hie thee to the woods and take thee no rest 
Till — in lone cave — " 

* * * * * * held o' long harmonies 
And soid-recesscs heaped with quiver- 
ing pearl, — 



38 At the Temple Gates 

" Till in lone forest cave." Here vanished, 
Serene in untold beauty, 'neath the rim 
Of waters limpid and transparent pure, 
Down to the gloom of mossy pebbles chill, 
In hidden grottoes and deep-visioned shades 
And many a viewless strange-refracted layer 
Of curious shapes, the unhappy Melusine. 



CHOPIN 

He touched the ivory keys and passed away 

Into a holier region of fair dreams 

Beyond the realm of Thought ; where choral 

streams 
Forever lull the sense, and tall trees sway 
Beneath th'enchanted breeze; where day by 

day 
The spring a blessing breathes and sunlight 

gleams 
Thro' shady knots of leaves, and Nature 

teems 
Panting, to fill the Poet's cup alway. 
And yet amid this loveliness I feel 

39 



4-0 At the Temple Gates 

The same sad searching eyes, like minor 

chords 
Cleaving the soul; and, ah, too deep for 

words 
The bitter yearning of a long-drawn sigh 
Which naught can quell — Chopin, thy grief 

unreal 
Is real to me — I weep, I know not why. 



BEETHOVEN 

Sing, arch-evangel of the Hallowed Dark, 
Sing, and we shall not weep thee very- 
long; 
We know thou art magnificent and strong 
And hast the Phidian breadth, the Homer 

spark ; 
We shall forget how miserable and stark 
Thy life — thy room how solitary, cold ; 
Thy soul barred rudely from her rightful 

fold, 
For Earth's surpassing bitterness the mark. 
Aye, when thunders from the Almighty 
steep 

Assault with grandeur the enthroned sky, 
41 



42 At the Temple Gates 

When sunlight spears the mountains and 

winds are thrown 
At random yet in stupendous harmony- 
Over the passionate bosom of Love's deep, 
We can forget the life-elm o'erblown. 



ON READING SOME LINES OF 
SCHILLER 

Heroic waves are beating on the rocks 
Of my soul's strand; they shake their fiery 

locks 
High in the air, they burst the chain and run, 
And die with all their glorious duty done. 



To W. H. G. 
I 

As David unto Jonathan, so I 

To you dear friend ; and who shall us gainsay 
So sweet companionship, that cannot die 

Till thou or I lie stored in the clay. 
Ofttimes I look upon the stars and think 

How frail Life's delicate film, till seer Night 
Dews warning on my temples and I shrink 

Th' intenser charm of soul's dsedalian light. 
Then falls the time when I can scarcely mark 

Or pulse or breathing and the failing ground 
Appals with ghostly fragrance, and the dark 

Sways numbing to the senses like a sound. 

But whatsoe'er my mood, tis but a frame 

For thy true image given in God's name. 
43 



44 At the Temple Gates 

II 

An odour thrills me in these Autumn days, 
Too galling sweet where sunken leaves have 
lain — 
Now is the month of winds and shifting haze, 
Of storms and soughing boughs and swing- 
ing grain. 
Spent apples cumber o'er the lifeless ground, 
And grapes hang rimy to the slender vines ; 
Chill rains are constant, moles make easy 
mound, 
Garners are full and farmers cellar wines. 
Now is the time when 'long the temple sky 
Form priestly clouds to Night's recession 
hymn; 
And now young maids bewail the dark and sigh 
The summer's loss when day grows early 
dim; 



To W. H. G. 45 

And now the hour when thou shalt most of all 
Be with me in my heart's confessional. 

Ill 

Companioned with a tremulous, sweet joy, 

I wander where the salt mist mantles all; 

And now the baser world cannot annoy, 

I gladden forward as to festival : 

The perfumes of sea marish are awake — 

I sing yet seem in prayer, as the waves 

Kneel on the sands a moment ere they break 

In hymns and haste declining to their graves. 

The wind, like faunal flutes accompanying 

The distant harmonies of sea and shoal, 

Doth fall away and swell, awakening 

Some hidden Beauty in my streamlet soul, 

Who chorals 'mong the reeds what I would 

rime 
To thee, half-hushed and at the end of 

time. 



A PRELUDE 

O Poesy my refuge and delight ! 

My sanctuary steeped in hallowed fire; 
Thee shall I not approach with coarse desire, 

Nor trivial temper nor satiric spite; 
But with a heart bowed lowly in thy sight, 

Kneel and be thankful and rise dimly grand 
And laud the Priest-Creator who hath planned 

Art's many temples with illustrious might. 
Then if my song be sweet in godlike ears, 

Sweet unto them that know harmonious 
sound, 
O never let it wholly to the world — 

After the soul has suffered and been hurled 

Thro' a life's fury, drowned with vexing tears, 

If yearns the beauty of thy cloistered bound. 
46 



LONGINGS IN SPRING 
O sweet to roam the pleasant mead, 

In the life-yielding May, 
When birds are at their merry creed 

And freshly blooms the day. 

A holy food it gives to me, 

A wonder and delight, 
A glory and a liberty 

That make the whole world bright. 

And if I could but bear away 

These saving balms that heal, 

O if I could arise and say 

One tithe of that I feel, — 
47 



48 At the Temple Gates 

Then in my heart a joy would flow, 
A May dawn of the mind, 

Giving me power to love and know 
And beautify mankind. 



THE RECOLLECTION 

Companion bright — methought I stood with 
thee 

In the blithe June time, when the runneled 
mead 

Set the thrush calling, and the frisky kine 

To piping zephyrs dallied with nimble step. 

Hand swinging hand we gazed on shadow 
streams, 

Sighing dreamily when the luscious frag- 
rance 

Frenzied our nostrils, or the honeyed 

murmur 

Nestled too closely, or the wide-bosomed 

clouds, 

49 



50 At the Temple Gates 

Sweeping like Juno in Olympic robe, 
Swelled out our moving fancies. Some time 

thou, 
Or some time I, remarked how a floating 

wisp, 
Or blossom torn aloose, for all the world 
Resembled a butterfly; then would we lean 
And strain our vision, colouring the while 
To watch whither it sank; then to laugh 

loud 
At lovers' silliness, and straight become 
Solemn as evergreens in sapling time. 
O I can view how fresh thy kirtle hung— 
An oriole's dress, thy bodice a lily, 
Thy hat a fairy bark on golden waves ; 
And how thy mouth did quiver when I spake 
Some foolish tale of lovers who were false, 
Of others who endured a sacrifice, 
Or others who like Juliet sipped the vial. 



The Recollection 51 

Then silent stood we smothering deep sighs, 
Nor venturing the mutual glance till thou 
By the morn rye set murm'ring loosed a 

song; 
O then I watched enviously lest thou 
Forget me in thy soul's communion ; 
And thus thy voice leading the feathered 

quire : 

" Was once a lowly swain 

That wooed a highborn maid; 
And they kissed in the golden grain 
And strolled in the linden shade. 

" The girl had a father old 

Who loved his daughter fair, 
And spake ' when ye leave my fold, 
Tis some noble name to share; 



52 At the Temple Gates 

" ' The name of noble knight, 

Whose castle towered and free 
Fronteth the eagle's flight 

When he launcheth o'er the sea. 

" ' In honourable domain, 

Where the powdered seneschal 
Shall fend thy silken train 

When thou queenest thro' the hall. 

" ' Make thee a splendid home 

Where the armours brightly beam, 
And sink to the carved tomb 
By legendary stream.' 

" Then answered the girl, — 
' O father let me stray 
At eve where the harebells twirl 
And the shepherd streamlets play. 



The Recollection 53 

" ' For I know a comely place, 
A crofter's cottage low, 
Where ivies interlace 

And the birds twit to and fro. 

" ' I crave no eld domain, 

Where the powdered seneschal 
Shall fend my silken train 

When I queen me thro' the hall ; 

" ' But a gentle country heart, 
One gracious Hope above, 
A loyal woman's part, 

And some pretty heads to love. 

" ' O father dear relent ; 
Let us to do our will ; 
And our days shall aye be spent 
To please thee and bless thee still.' 



54 At the Temple Gates 

But the sire frowned wild, 

And he drew a trembling sword — 

Now the grass weeps o'er his child 
And he shrinks before the Lord." 

Then spake I, " wondrous sweet thy song — 

Ah Isabel, — 

The way is all too clear; 

No Romance now to frame our love with 

dark, 
Setting love's gold the deeper ; nay, 'tis gone, 
The balcon time, when Youth with hushed 

guitar 
Honeyed the twilight, and the clanging steel 
Brake on the amorous stillness of the moon 
Like Apollo's shaft. Gone is the woven 

ladder, 



The Recollection $5 

The sil'vry hoof of lion-haired coursers gay, 

The holstered weapon, all caparison 

And knightly harness have played their parts 

and gone. 
And it brings the sigh, to dwell on splendours 

past; 
On the gorgeous cloak and mediaeval strut, 
On plumes 'bove glitt'ring helm in shouting 

list 
Where a Lady smiled enthroned. What have 

we now 
In all this age, this cunning wakeful age, 
This age of records and fresh definitions, 
This time when all things swell the crucible. 
And the dearest jewel of our Fancy's casket 
Shall prove but dross, — ay, what is now to 

set 



56 At the Temple Gates 

Against the roseate dream that shall not pale 
And doff its fragrance by comparison ? " 
Then sang my Love — her voice like morning 

vale 
Or pasture sweet after long banishment, — 
Crystalline : " Idly in the past thou rovest, 
Thine eyelids heavy and thy heart oppressed ; 
Thou starvest in a world of plenty — eat! 
About thee are fruits waving, and the corn 
Droopeth in ripeness, and maturing roots 
Dug from the odorous fallows are thy food. 
Yon pearly brook where laps a gentle haze 
Under long leaves to cool her waters limpid 
Shall give thee drink. O Wanderer this air 
Delicious, and the ground so greatly firm, 
This earth with all her benefits and pains, 
Bring hope more joyous than the moulded 

past. 



The Recollection $y 

And who can tell the past how dead it lies! 
Nay, let us live and love and praise the God." 

Then seemed I took thee with mine arms and 

passed 
Thro' a wide door whence fell a gentle plain 
Toward life waters, undulation sweet. 
A soft fire glimmered from a swaying fount. 
I gazed — some phantom 'fore us with a 

censer 
'Gan swinging light, as others incense yield. 
Without him was no vision ; and we twain 
Leaning together, looking not on ourselves, 
Led by the angel Human — ay, 'twas thou 
Invoked him in the generant loveliness 
Of primal nature — entered a dim vale. 



58 At the Temple Gates 

II 

Now as we went with watchful eyes and 

bright, 
In our young marriage happiness too fair, 
Our tranquil guide pointed a mighty dome, 
Which in vast bolted blackness bended me; 
And, first time in our wanderings did seem 
To smile our master spirit like a father 
At evetime by his best beloved children, 
And spake: " Come silently and enter in; 
Come silently and enter pitiful. 
These are the portals of a mighty hall, 
The hall of people, poverty, and pain, 
That hall ye know not; bend the neck and 

come." 
So entered we, heart-thrilling and with 

pause, 



The Recollection 59 

Even so unexpectedly and grimly 

That shadowy domain which is the world. 

And O my heart with pity 

Gave a great heave, and the tears coursed 

adown 
Thy visage young, and a strange wonder- 
ment 
Plenished our souls — barren things till that 

time. 
" Alas ! " I cried, " so much of all mankind, 
So vast a company ! " and hid my face 
In scholar hands, while thou didst tremble 

too. 
Then spake the guiding one : " as lookers-on 
Remain ye not ; compassion shall ye know 
And the deep sombre pathos for your kind; 
Soul must be wakened ere development ; 



60 At the Temple Gates 

But not alone come ye to view the world. 
To play your part, to move within the world, 
Ye have fared troublous hither. Others shall 

gaze 
Compassionate on ye, as ye on them. 
Sorrow must level all, till joy may build 
Enduring mansions on a likelier soil." 

^c ;fc $z ^ He $z 

O Time thou wast a desert, and our lives 

In lonely caravan did wend their way 
All silently across thee; thou didst stretch 
Before mine eyes through tedious distances 
Of seeming endless years, endless years. 

5JS * * * * >K 

In every soul comes longing and the hour 

When beauty is too burdensome with sweet ; 

When passion too warm refined frees our 
life's flower 



The Recollection 61 

Into mad melancholy, golden winged. 
Then is the need of winter and sere tempest, 
The want of rudeling buffets and ill fortune, 
Th'enduring heartstab of a treasonous 

world : 
For in our intense delights we grow too 

precious, 
And cherishful of insect fantasies, 
Too dapper in our souls. — Nay, let the North 
Shiver us into generosity; 
And let the sleet and the loud hissing rain 
Shame us to better action : the hungry square, 
The street of rags and the infectious alley 
Are critical auditors. Let us then feel 
Like Nature's self, the wants of our own 

time; 
And, hoarding up lost energies, give out 



62 At the Temple Gates 

In proper season; and with how fair a face 

Our own apportioned blessing to mankind. 
****** 

Lull me winds, and thou blest stream 

Softly ply thy sylvan voice 

For here my love would stray by choice 
And here I used to watch and dream. 

How slender was her form in white, 
Her soul, how tranquil shining through, 
And every step she made was true 

As the step a star takes in the night. 

My soul is standing on the shadowy brink 
Of some great thought, my heart already 

glows 
With one great love; and like the glorious 

sun, 



The Recollection 63 

Silently, from the night-time of the past 
Rises my life. Oh, precious hour of all, 
When we awaken to a world of good ; 
Our fancies ripened with experience, 
And the fair human influence set blooming 
By sympathetic rains; Oh fragrance warm 
Of charitable impulse, breeze divine 
That wends amain the channel of compassion 
Wafting us unto God. How trifling then 
Romance with all its dress, all the display 
Of days Provencal, the chivalric blend 
Of Romish pageantry, Castilian pride, 
Lie sculptured cold in the mind's corridor, 
And wage no more with Nature for our 

hearts, 
Than vies the diamond with an orphan's tear 
To melt us. — So, Love, did we journey on 



64 At the Temple Gates 

In blest serenity from that Youth hill, 
Whence, fashioned in one symmetry of soul, 
We dared the glooming valley. And even 

now — 
While at mine elbow wrapped in secure 

slumbers, 
Under the cool of nursing branches gentle, 
Thou leanest, dear, — I hold the record sweet, 
Which, on thy brow with a smooth tranquil 

blend, 
And o'er thy lips so burdened womanly, 
And on those eyelids, never yet flushed with 

anger, 
Voices thy beautiful past. And I do hold 
This earth a garden, which can nourish thee ; 
And the hordes of people are thy brethren 

flowers ; 



The Recollection 65 

The sky with all its heaven is not more fair 
Than memory shrined in this calm blissful 

nook. 
So sleep thou on ; myself shall view the kine 
Move gracefully adown the idle glen. 



TO SILENCE 

I 

Majestic Being — thou that overawest 

The insolence of mortal word complaining — 

Come down among us from thy heaven 

height : 
Thy lofty frown unfold and kill our feigning, 
Our fancied glory; and even as thou sawest 
With pitying eye the universal night 
Primeval, where co-martyr of the Light, 
Thy spirit fled, 

And Godlike from the dead 

Did rise — O come and save us with thy 

might. 

66 



To Silence 67 

II 

Come to us now, 'tis no delusive fear 
That makes us turn 
To thee, with thirst we burn. 
Give us thy cup of crystal fountain clear ; 
For we are fallen into noisy seeming 
And gesture meaningless, a very Babel, 
A pandemoniac life, of thought a dearth. 
Descend O Prophet in thy garment sable — 
The locks translucent from thy frontal 

streaming — 
And cast us forth, chiding our impious mirth 
With muteness till we crave the higher 

worth ; 

Point to the land, 

Then, with thy holy hand, 
Shatter our earth-built towers to the earth. 



68 At the Temple Gates 

III 

Thy stateliness — thy kingly step and slow, 

When thro' the woods, 

Or over noontide floods, 

Or robed in purple mists upon the brow 

Of some gray Alpine form thou wand'rest 

lonely, — 
Or, Arab-like, the Dark thy still companion, 
Across Sahara or the Nubian waste, 
Or Arizona steep where streamless canyon 
In desolation becks thee — thee, thee only 
O'er sombre seas at whose horizon vast 
Lethean spelled our senses swing aghast, 
We recognize, 

And glory blinds our eyes — 
Sovereign of the Future and the Past. 



To Silence 69 

IV 

We honour thee, magnificent and pure, 
Thou priestly shape 
Who lovest well to drape 
Thy shoulders with the midnight stole 

obscure ; 
Ancestral one, who 'neath thy Sphinx-brow 

holdest 
Eternal secrets; Astrologer and Father 
Who with thine Art forth from their forest 

haunts 
Calk st thine Ariel spirits sweet; or rather 
Grim visage wide, that while we gaze un- 

foldest 
Into an ocean where no storm-fiend taunts; 
Stupendous Thought ! who stridest forth and 

daunts 



jo At the Temple Gates 

The dizzy brain — 
Our earthly visions vain — 
We praise thee with no chords nor sounding 
chaunts, 

V 
But with the choral of pure contemplation, 
Where — poised above the world, the strife 

inglorious — 
Gazing upon thine immortality, 
We kneel in nobler war and rise victorious. 
We would be like the stars, in holier station, 
To send thee paeans that could never die 
While thou, Great Phantom, like the sea, the 
sky 
Or some dread thing 
Beyond imagining 
Didst hold thy sceptre forth eternally. 



TO THE EARTH 

Untiring One who searchest the deep skies 
Year after year — nor heeding moon nor star ; 
Great Silent Heart that thro' the long 

centuries 
Hast held thy fire hidden ; always far 
From him thou lovest yet no nearer hate — 
Tell me, was ever life so desolate, 
Was ever such inexorable fate 
As thine, eternally thy course to run, 
Seeming to approach, yet never nearing one 
Who lighteth all thy lonely way — the sun? 



7i 



AUTUMN MEMORIES 

(On hearing " Im Herbst " by Robert Franz.) 
I 
If she were false I would be dead, 
The dank leaves clustering o'er my head ; 
No cypress bough to sing in the wind, 
No flowers strewn, no sorrow kind, 
Naught but death — to make me blind. 
I would not — cold and cruel — haunt 
Her chamber drear and darkling chaunt . 
Like the autumnal wind which calls 
" If she were false, if she were false ; " 
Nor like yon cloud in tears to break, 
Nor yet the storm full vengeance wreak ; 
But ah, too stunned to live or speak 

I'd hie me to my grave, my grave ! 
72 



Autumn Memories 73 

And burst the clod and never weep, 

Nor hold the breath and backward creep, 

Nor voice these passionate throbs and 

rave; 
But throw myself in the crumbling deep 
And bless the God who such sleep gave 
If she were false. 



II 



When forest leaves are lying sere 
And dull mist hangeth over mere, 
Then speed I to the fields around, 
And linger by a mossy mound 
Where she doth lie, where she doth lie, 
And O it is a dreary sky. 



74 At the Temple Gates 

No birds make music in the trees 
Half -naked branches in the breeze 
Sing a low dirgeful monotone — 
I wander o'er the leas alone 
No prey to melancholy fears, 
But O it is a world of tears. 

Ill 

Adown the early village scene 

I pass like a spirit thing ; 
Children are romping on the green 

Before the school bells ring. 

I stand beneath an aged tree 
Where I was wont to stand ; 

But now it does not shelter me. 
I am so tall and grand. 



Autumn Memories y$ 

The clouds are flying as fast they flew 

This day agone twelve years, 
And the earth was green and the sky was blue, 

But they moved me not to tears. 

O I have ranged afar, I feel 

The world is in despite; 
O Love ! O Heaven ! Let me kneel 

On the brink of concealing night. 



BESIDE A SLEEPING CHILD 

O slender sleeping Innocence ! 
Like a wan lily thy petals fold 

In the dark. 
No fell dream can bring offence; 
No harsh voice can bid thee hold 
Thine eyelids ope and stark, 
To think and think 

Till morrow, 
And drink and drink 
No joy;— 
Nay my sweet cither, nay so ! 

'Tis thus for guilt, 

Whose fingers toy death's hilt ; 

'Tis thus for age 

And worldly vassalage ; 
7 6 



Beside a Sleeping Child Jj 

"lis thus for him who raves 
In torment of suspense, 
Whom ceaseless worry draves 
Trembling to hourly graves 
Or harmfuller discontents; 
But thus for innocence, 
For Godliest innocence? 
Ah, no, no! 



A BALLAD 

The leaves are blowing across my face — 
Now a mace, a mace ! 

The clouds are flying, the heavens are clear- 
My horse and my spear! 

Ye cannot go at your age, your age 
With your spear and mace; 

Ye would not attempt the winter's rage — 
And your withered face. 

I'll follow him o'er the western field — 

My helm and my shield! 

Now, open the gate Sir Seneschal, 

Or thou shalt fall. 

78 



A Ballad 79 

father thy arms can never hold 
Thy silver shield; 
And the wind sweeps down so sullen 
cold 
Thro' the Western Held. 

Now daughter take thy hand from me — 
I will be free ! 

I'd brave far more than the wintry wild 
For my hapless child. 



BEAUTY THAT LIES IN THE THORN 

A love song is on my lips 

So sweet and rare of hue, 
I am as one who sips 

Delight in elysian dew, 
And my cheek with passion pales 
Though my music trembles and fails. 

As in the farewell of Spring- 
When the early beauties are dead, 

And the season awakening, 

With maturer warmth is fed, — 

And the ripeness that in youth cloys 

Has become the intensest of joys, — 
80 



Beauty that Lies in the Thorn 81 

So from the death of one hope 

I will shape me a lovely fear, 
Tender as heliotrope 

Yet blooming and wholesome and clear, 
And this I shall bring to thee 
On wings of bright melody; 

And place it at thy side — so; 

Then vanish like silver rain, 
And thou shalt arise in a glow 

And say : " Love was not in vain, 
When, from life's early sorrow 
Such fruitful delight we borrow." 

Oh in the denial of all 

I've loved the most from my birth, 
Little by little shall fall 

The threads that bind me to earth; 
Till I may rise slender and true, 
As spirit-beings do. 



THE SONG 

The song that burns in my bosom 
Shall be a song of you ; 
Sweet and with no strange fancies— 
But simply toned and true. 

A world of figure and fancy 
And strange wild loveliness, 
Could only cover thy beauty, 
Make my song's beauty less. 



82 



TWO LYRICS OF CHILDREN 
I 

Ada pure sparkling crystal 

From a life's tender well, 
I would to all-seeing Heaven 

That I might with thee dwell. 

But the sea of a generation 

Separates us for aye, 
And tho' I may call thee and bless thee, 

I never can have thee by. 

To have thee by as I would, 

As a playmate and a part; 

I must invite thee, child, 

If I would give o'er my heart. 
83 



84 At the Temple Gates 

And a smile is on my lips — 

The smile that were tears to some — 
The nest where thou art the loveliest guest 

Can never be quite thy home. 

II 

Heaven's kindness on thy head, 

My little one so bright ; 
Here in thy basket bed 

Smoothed ready for the night. 

Heaven's kindness on that brow, 
And the pretty fingers curled, 

And the silken breathings low, 
And this nursery — thy world. 

In thy pure, gentle eyes 

Is something still and strong, 
A warmth and a surprise 

That melts me and haunts me long. 



Two Lyrics of Children 85 

And here in my poet's mood 

I feel I could thee bless 
With a strange wondrous good 

Beyond mere happiness. 






A CRY OF MERCURY, MESSENGER 
TO HADES 

I 

I could not dally, 

I dared not wait, 
Ever too early 

And too late. 

II 

They snatched him from me — 

The boy so fair. 
They wove in threads 

Of his golden hair ; 

III 

In blood their fingers 

Deep-rooted stained ; 
86 



A Cry of Mercury 87 

And over his beauty — 
So godlike veined — 

IV 
They drew the curses 

Of sin and death, 
And threw the fire 

In his sweet breath, 

V 
And crooned in evil ; 

And killed his hope, 
And bade me for ever 

In darkness grope, 

VI 

If I could not lead them 

To bitterer things ! 
Till I grew like a comet 

On terrible wings 



88 At the Temple Gates 

VII 

And strake them to silence! 

But ah ! 'twas all ; 
I rise in the heavens 

Only to fall. 

VIII 

I could not dally, 
I dared not wait — 

Ever too early, 
And too late. 



PROSERPINE STUDIES 

I 

A Hymn of Proserpine, who, having 
dreamed the coming of Pluto, is told by 
Minerva that she is intended for the arms of 
Jove. 

Happy solution 

Of my dreams; 

What seemed so dark 

Was but the shadow 

Of some High Presence 

Over my way. 

Now can I step 
With firmer pace, 
And lips more silent; 



90 At the Temple Gates 

For I shall sleep 
Upon his breast 
Olympian. 

And blessed be 
My own high state — 
Ev'n I, God's maiden — 
And think ye not 
That I shall fear 
His beckoning. 

But oh, to quit 
These tender fruits, 
And earliest flowers, 
And leaves transparent ! 
This — this will cost me 
Many a tear. 

Sweet fresh'ning rain, 
Fall thou around 
And wet the grasses ; 



Proserpine Studies 91 

Bear me, O Zephyr, 

Resinous odours 
From the wild grove. 

For these my children 
Long must I pine; 
For the birdling bowers 
And arched brooks, 
And the laughing squirrels 
In their first freedom. 

Even the worm 
And the lithe lizard, 
Yea, and the serpent, 
Insect and zo-oph, 
Have my caresses, 
Are to me dear. 

Still am I joyous — 

Joyous to find 

My grief a shadow; 



92 At the Temple Gates 

What seemed so dark 
Was the Great Presence 
Over my way. 

Calm then, and list thou 
Heart ! for the calling, 
For the far voice ; 
As the full Ceres 
Made me and bade me, 
I shall obey her. 



II 

The Solitude of Proserpine 

Gone, gone Minerva? 
Alas — but thou wilt come again! I am 
So weak without thee and the sport of Hours 
That dare not venture near thy radiant shield. 
Exalt thou art! supreme of all thy sex 
Of any world; and I? — O beauteous flower 
That hangs thy head, sweet grass that 

breathes around me, 
Fair lisping brook which runneth thy cool 

waters 
O'er crisped stones, — thou — thou art me. 

My mother bade me when I first arose 
Give life and warmth unto the barren earth, 

93 



94 At the Temple Gates 

And shed new influence and beauties rich ; 
And as I ran and laughed, lo ! from my hair 
Shook seed and petal, herb and freshest part 
Of roots, then loveliest forms imaginable 
Rose to my vision, and I breathed for joy — 
For very joy of what was soon to come, 
Was soon to be made real. For when I saw 
How all was but a dream, I sate and wept; 
And every seed under the wholesome shower 
Sprang up in natural life to comfort me; 
Sprang up and when I smiled grew joyous 

too. 
This seemed the fairest influence of all — 
That, when I wept or when I sang or when 
I laughing ran and lay reposeful down 
And merely breathed all things drew Good 

of me. 



Proserpine Studies 95 

But in the passing — in the calm, later time, 
When, ever watchful I should guard my 

childlings 
Lest they should fail — came there a parched 

breath 
Out from the earth and with it a harsh voice, 
Which spake : " O ye are mine, ye are for 

me, 
For mine alone." And ah, the hopelessness 
That struck me with these words. I looked 

above 
And saw the placid sky ; I gazed around 
On beauteous lawns and rivers and pure hills 
And glens of wavering green, and still did 

hear 
Below, heart-breaking laughter, riotous 

mirth 



96 At the Temple Gates 

And shouting of unholy things. I turned, 
Silent, and fled in dream o'er dismal waste — 
O'er dream waste terrified, until I knew 
Minerva's hand upon my brow — and woke. 



Ill 

( Song of the Zephyrs Wailing for Proserpine 

ist Zephyr 
She is lost, 

She is gone, 
Tempest tost, 

Desert lone 
In the wild. 

2 d Zephyr 
Sweet and mild 

Was her breath ; 
"Ceres' child!" 

The God saith ; 

She is gone. 
97 






98 At the Temple Gates 

1st Zephyr 
Where afar 

In the space 
Moon or star 

Wheels apace; 
She is flown. 

2d Zephyr 
Every stone 

Must now weep, 
Every tone 

Wake from sleep, 
Her to mourn. 

1st Zephyr 
Ay, forlorn 

Must we bide, 
She is borne 



Proserpine Studies 99 

From our side, 
Where away ? 

2d Zephyr 
Bridal bay 

For her hair, — 
Well-a-day! 

She was fair, 
Proserpine. 

1st Zephyr 
Weary mine 

Who hath known; 
Weary thine, 

She hath flown, 
Proserpine. 

2d Zephyr 
Proserpine. 

LofC. 



ioo At the Temple Gates 

ist Zephyr 
To the hill, to the vine 
Let us fly. 

2d Zephyr 
Canst thou die 
Proserpine ? 
(Exeunt in calm.) 



BLEAKLANDS 

Now may I roam the melancholy hills, 
Yon wintry hill that in no verdure gowned, 
No autumn rich, Sirenian wind or sound 
Of skurrying bee the heart's cup overfills ; 
Nor where gay, winged sprites 'mong leafy 

rills 
Chant in full joyance till the woods resound ; 
Nor where sun-fairies sport o'er mere and 

mound, 
But with content as stricter fancy wills. 
And I do think 'twill ever be my choice — 
Mothered by highest moods when quite 

alone — 

IOI 



102 At the Temple Gates 

To hearken Nature's sterner, grander voice; 
There dwells a beauty in that undertone, 
A living power to bid the soul rejoice, 
The melodies of spring have never known. 



EVENSONG 

The holy light of eventide 

Is mantling the still sea, 
All things in world and heaven wide 

Glow with tranquillity. 
An angel watches o'er the deep, 

I feel the presence mute ; 

The magic of his vesper lute 
Has lulled the labouring waves — they 
sleep. 

How blest the time when every care 

Stills like a summer cloud; 

When a pure balm breathes in the air, 

And nature is endowed 
103 



i oa At the Temple Gates 

With special powers to heal the mind, — 
When heart quaffs blissful springs; 
When dreams have high awakenings 

And golden sights enchain the blind. 

At moments let me feel the storm 

In all its passionate yearning, 
But give me now the placid form 

Beneath which life is burning. 
I love the early tempest cry, 

The fresh morn and the motion ; 

But none less clear the tranquil ocean 
Under a meditative sky. 

O fisher schooners softly wending 
Brown winged o'er the bay! 

With the low light of heaven blending 
In my spirit's ray! 



Evensong 105 

Ye are but fancies like the rest — 
Dream sails on vision streams — 
And real tho' ye be, as dreams 

I love ye best, I love ye best 



SANCTUARY 

There is a temple in thy face, but O 

I shall not name thy brow an altar nor 

Thine eyes pure sainted windows ; I adore 

Too fondly, deeply ever to bestow 

Images on thy sacred beauty. No, 

Let me but worship without knowing why, — 

As 'neath the benison of sea or sky 

We stand bareheaded with all veins aglow. 

O what were human life without devotion ? 

Without the blessed time when Self does fail 

Silently like a shadow, when an ocean 

Of sublime meaning tides the naked heart 

From love's eternity, and world, grown pale, 

Kneels murm'ring while unworthy dreams 

depart ? 

106 



TRANQUILLITY 

When I am gone, let first resound 

The dismal mockery of brass; 
And let, by melancholy mound 

The gloom cortege of mourners pass. 
Then all of sweet that ever was 

In the fresh dewy world I love, 
The flocks, the flowers, the silent grass, — 

Let them press round about my bed and 
joyful prove. 

When pipings from the leafy burn — 

By zephyrous satyr lonely played, 

With something of a soulful turn 

Inspire the solitary shade; 
107 



io8 At the Temple Gates 

Or when from distant pasture glade 
Issues the calm of bleating herds, 

Or when the gold light 'gins to fade 

And eve wakes silvery with twinkling 
notes of birds; 

Then low my heart shall lie in nest 

As it lies in the wild grove here ; 
I cannot fancy heaven's rest 

More perfect and more fruitful clear, 
I cannot vision spot more dear, 

More blessed for the labouring one— > 
A holier urn for the last tear 

Than this retreat where all my toil on earth 
seems done. 

While I am living let me be 

No selfish fool of sighs and groans; 
I would make pure the ecstasy 



Tranquillity 109 

Of all which strenuous manhood owns. 
But when I die — God rest my bones! 

Then I have finished and shall seek 
No more life's descant of strange tones 

But lips shall close as when Content for- 
bids them speak. 

Ambition is the morning light, 

Its memory the gloam of age, 
But the genial ministers of night 

Have little power the soul to 'suage 
Unless with an heroic rage 

We have found weariness in strife; 
Profoundest calm is passion's gauge, — 

We must have toiled to know the evening 
cools of life. 

As in the fading of a flower 

Dwelleth the dirge of beauty spent, 



no At the Temple Gates 

So in this pensive poet's hour 

I feel a faery discontent; 
Yet with it something God hath lent 

To make me strong and heavenly wise ; 
Now in new paths my way is bent 

With proudly rising soul and meekly 
downward eyes. 



AN APRIL LYRIC 

Oh I would be the priest of spring 

To say a mass for everything 

That sings and wings and blooms and sprays — 

And bless them to the end of days. 

Now Nature laugheth like a child, 
And over all — so mute, so mild — 
My soul like a protecting sky 
Offers her balm of sympathy. 

I feel that I could die for them, 

These birds, these flowers on dewy stem, 

And the green lives multitudinous 

As the loving Saviour died for us. 
in 



THREE SONNETS OF A WINTRY 
SHORE 

I ALONE 

Sweet recreation by the wintry sea 
To wander as the mood will oft invite, 
When colours roseate fall silvery 
On the pure limpid shells and pebbles white; 
When weeds lie prisoned by the freezing foam, 
And minnows dart in the translucent shallows ; 
And broken reeds are stiff'ning in the loam, 
And wild birds shriek about the briny fallows. 
When sky is clear and northwind biteth keen, 
Dull eyes grow bright, pale cheeks turn flow- 

'ry pink, — 
When life-fruit hangeth ripe, and I to glean 
Need but the moment on my fair love think ; 
Then falleth unto me a joy so pure, 
I wonder my frail spirit can endure. 

112 



Three Sonnets of a Wintry Shore 1 1 3 

II TOGETHER 

My Radiant One, it were enough that thou 
With all thy beauty stayest for ever mine; 
That every glint of thy dear eyes, each line 
Of cheek and bosom holdeth me as now; 
It were enough that o'er thy limpid brow 
No darkness steal to mar its brilliance fine; 
And thy repose, thy motion, all of thine 
Be thine till a wise heaven disallow. 
But when, exulting by the ocean's side — 
Where wind shouts free, and waves responsive 

roar, 
And storm-birds scream above the skurrying 

tide- 
There Girl! though in thy beauty as before 
Thou standst — in thy full loveliness and 

pride — 
These fade away, God gives thee so much 

more. 



H4 At the Temple Gates 

III — ALONE 

So startling white, O February moon ! 

Can thy dark home appal thee to such ways, 

That thou with heaven's glory on thy face, 

Wanderest in dejection? Can the boon 

Of solitude be turned to pain so soon? 

Has grief consumed thine ampler, fuller rays, 

Or, tell me, seekest thou some purer place 

Beyond the wave where rest thy silv'ry shoon ? 

Form incomparable ! I gaze on thee 

In calm so deep, meseems as if thou wast 

My bridal shape of spirituality, 

Some beauteous being rendered from the Past, 

In whose inviolate countenance I see 

Life's joy and sorrow mould into one at last 



TO AN EVENING CLOUD 

Bright swan of heaven's sapphire bay, 

My soul is rilled with light, 
To view thee on thy golden way 

Unto the silent night. 

It yields me a contented throe, 

A balm from paradise, 
To watch thee, lordly-bosomed, flow 

Along the limpid skies. 

When all the troublous day is done, 

The weariness and strife, 
How fortunate to gaze upon 

One large majestic life. 
"5 



1 1 6 At the Temple Gates 

It makes the world with all its noise 

Seem petty and amiss ; 
And thine the noblest of pure joys, 

A calm, superior bliss. 

Oh let me, open-minded, learn 

To glide like thee along, 
And on laborious lives that yearn 

Shed freshening dews and strong. 

I would have something of God-form, 
Be kingly poised like thee, 

A power for swiftness and for storm ? 
Held in tranquillity. 

Then hear me, traveller of heaven, 

Where peaceful billows swell ; 
In thy serene transparent even 

I feel my life is well. 



To an Evening Cloud 117 

I feel the freshness and the spring, 

And the full grace divine 
That flows for every living thing 

In the world's heart and mine. 



THE END 



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